Stripped to the Core
by JMK758
Summary: Lt. Valerii comes to Adama for help, but there is greater distress than anyone anticipated. Follows immediately after the Tribunal.


Disclaimer: No attempt is made to infringe on the copyrights owned by Glen Larson, Sci-Fi or any associates or affiliates, nor anyone who can make legal claim of ownership to 'Battlestar Galactica'.

This story takes place in the late morning the day after the investigative hearings depicted in "Litmus"

Stripped to the Core

By JMK758

Lt. Sharon Valerii stood outside the door to the Commander's office for several long moments, trying to summon the courage to press the 'alert' button. She did not want to be here, did not want to face this man, but she had to. She felt it was either do this now, while she could summon up the courage to act, or surrender her mind to the seemingly inevitable madness.

Unable to attain the courage she needed, she jammed her finger sharply against the button, trying to remove the choice from herself. "Come in." Adama called even as the door slid aside before her. Trying to summon up a veneer of bravery, she stepped through the portal.

It took two steps into the room to clear the short corridor so she could see him seated at his desk to her left. The layout was intentional; an intruder could not come on the Commander unaware. He was seated behind the desk, some papers spread out before him. He looked up at her over his glasses. She snapped to rigid attention, saluting sharply. He returned it as crisply. She could tell she had his complete and undivided attention. "Commander?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"May I see you, sir?"

He took off his glasses, setting them down on the desk, and favored her with a small smile, his normally grim and craggy features softening slightly. "You are." He could barely refrain from pointing out the obvious.

"Sir, I … I … request permission… no, I … Sir, permission to speak freely?"

Adama regarded the woman carefully. That she was extremely nervous was also obvious. In fact, he had known her for several years, knew her to be capable and cool under fire, in the most stressful of situations. But that was work, and he had a strong certainty that this was not.

He was sure he had a fair idea what she had come for. Only last evening he had had to severely reprimand CPO Tyrol for gross violations of the Colonial Code of Military Conduct in regard to his … activities with a superior officer, and now that superior officer stood before him. 'Well,' he thought, 'I would have sent for her in time anyway; might as well get it over with. But first, I'll give her her chance.' "At ease. Permission granted. Sit down, Lieutenant."

Sharon sat down stiffly, her posture carefully erect, her manner controlled. She was far from the picture of ease. She met his eyes with great difficulty. "Sir, I wish to report myself unfit for duty."

Adama hid his surprise as carefully as he could. This was not what he had expected. "Explain."

"Sir, for the past … I barely know how to say this."

"Directly would be preferable." He passed his hands almost casually over the stacks of papers spread out across his desk.

"Sir, for the past few nights I have been having …" She took a deep and not at all calming breath. "Nightmares."

"I doubt any of us have slept well these past three weeks." He pointed out.

"Last night, I tore all the flesh off my face, and there was a Cylon underneath." He regarded the shaken women for a long moment.

"Beats the hell out of some of mine." He admitted quietly.

"I think it was that press conference the President called. Cylons looking human. Scares the hell out of most of us… Sir." She caught herself barely in time, but he dismissed it with a wave. "I woke up, scared to look in a mirror. I – I took a – a knife and …" She held out her left hand, the back toward him. Her hand was inexpertly wrapped in white gauze. He looked into her eyes more sharply.

It had been clear the woman was deeply shaken; now it was certain there were more things, and they were more serious, than he had anticipated.

"It bled, of course. It wasn't deep, but …" She gave a sharp, broken laugh. "Hell, of course I bleed. I'm a woman – I get reminded of blood every month." He pressed his hand to his lips, carefully schooling his expression. "I'm sorry, sir. That was inappropriate."

"That's all right, Lieutenant." He said nothing more, drawing her out by his silence.

"Sir, I'm unfit for duty, and request to be relieved."

"Because you hurt yourself."

"Sir, there are times I walk down a corridor, and I catch a reflection out of the corner of my eye, but it's not my flesh. I see the reflection of bare metal. I look at my hand, and sometimes in my head its mechanical fingers instead of flesh and bone."

"Hold out your hand, Lieutenant." She extended her right hand to him, over his desk, palm down. He could see the fine trembling in her fingers. He pushed her hand down onto the desk, covering it with his, holding it steady on the wood under his gentle pressure. "Lieutenant, can you pilot a Raptor?"

"Sir?" He could see her needs at war with her duty, and knew just how strong that sense of duty was.

"You know our situation. If I relieve you of duty, and we get a signal, we both know you'll have to be out there."

She nodded, drawing back her hand and standing up. She wondered how she could have expected any less. Or more. But she found that she could only turn partially away. She turned back to him again, finding him waiting patiently. "Sir, I –." At that moment the phone to his right chimed. He reached out to take the receiver off the wall, not breaking eye contact with her at any instant.

"Commander Adama….Madam President, I'm in the middle of something. If it's not urgent, I'll have to call you back. Thank you, Madam President." He hung up the phone, his attention still on Sharon, who gaped at him, astounded.

"You – you hung up on the President?"

"We're not done here." He said quietly, looking up at her patiently. "You were saying?"

"Sir, I -." She tried her best to bury her surprise, distress and all other feelings, but there were just too many of them. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

He carefully kept his lips from spreading. "You already have it." He 'reminded' her.

"Sir, I know I am human, and despite these … nightmares, I have no doubts. But I want to volunteer as a test subject for Dr. Baltar's Cylon detector."

He tried to keep his thoughts out of his tone. "Sit down, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir." She carefully lowered herself back into the seat.

"Lieutenant, the 'Cylon detector', as it is so loosely being called; is by no means ready for even a preliminary test."

"And if it were? Sir, what if it said …" She took a deep breath, and let it out carefully. "Sir, if I said I was a Cylon … would you kill me?"

He held her eyes for a long moment, considering the question. He considered it as a friend to the young woman. He considered it as a human. He considered it as a Commander. "Yes." He finally said. "I would."

She stared at him, shaken to her core. She wanted to protest her disbelief. She wanted to protest her innocence. She wanted to protest her humanity. She wanted him not to have said that.

She wanted to get up, to leave, to undo the mistake of having come here, but she could not move.

"Sir… I'm human." It sounded so small, even to her.

"I believe you are. But if you were not? Theorize, Lieutenant. You're an experienced, practical officer. Theorize."

"Sir, I'm loyal. If – if I were a Cylon … I – I'd still be loyal. Wouldn't … wouldn't it be an advantage to us to have a loyal Cylon?" He was quiet for many moments.

"Are you listening to yourself, Lieutenant?"

She tried to answer, but after a few moments looked down, shaking her head. "I'm _human_. I had parents. I was born, I grew up, I …"

"The records of Doral checked out." She closed her eyes in pain. This was all going wrong. How had they gone from her inability to deal with the war, with the loss that the order to break off her relationship with Tyrol had cost her to her being …?

"Sir…" He held up his hand.

"This is worse than I had anticipated. I expected the eroding of confidence within the fleet as people looked to others with suspicion. I did not expect the eroding of self-confidence as well."

She looked up at him, imploring and insistent. "I'm _human_!"

"I know you are, Lieutenant." He leaned forward, driving his point home. "Lieutenant … Sharon… I have served with you for many years. I've seen you too human to be a machine."

"But you would kill me." She breathed, unable to let go of the fear. It was a long moment before he answered, a moment in which she could imagine he was not going to say that

"I'd have to." He admitted, wishing with all his heart that he did not have to. She pressed her eyes closed, unable to let him see her pain.

"Sir, may I go?"

He did not want her to, not when there was so much left unresolved. "Dismissed." She stood up, turned and stepped away toward the door, so close and yet so far. She stopped, unable to go any further. She tried to leave, and tried again. Finally, she gave up trying.

"Sir," she turned back, licked her lips which were suddenly very dry, and found him waiting for her next words. "I request that I be reduced in rank."

"How low?" He went along with this surprising request, certain that he knew where it was going. She did not answer immediately; perhaps surprised that he did not refuse her outright. "Sergeant? Corporal? CPO, perhaps?"

"Sir, I …" She tried to keep eye contact with him, but after a few moments failed. She looked at the wall past his head instead.

"I need you, _Lieutenant_. You know we do not have nearly enough senior officers now."

"Sir, the …" She tried again to meet his eyes, failed again, and fixed her stare more intently on a spot on the wall past him. She drew herself to full attention, standing ramrod straight. "Sir, the Code of Military Conduct - ."

He cut her off. "You want me to arrange circumstances so it will be possible for you to resume a sexual relationship with Galen Tyrol." She found a spot on the wall an inch further from his head, and stared at it so intently she could memorize it.

He recalled a conversation that had taken place little more than two weeks ago, but seemed like a lifetime in the remote past, with Laura Roslin. She had stressed that the only real hope of humanity came in having babies. He had, after long consideration, decided she was right.

And now…

Not long after that, after the incident with Tom Zarek on the 'Astral Queen' he had had another … discussion with the woman, and his son; this one on upholding the Articles. It was the law that she administered and he defended, and yet…

He looked into the face of one of his key officers, who at this moment was having so great a difficulty looking into his. "Lieutenant?" He said in a low, level tone.

"Sir?"

"I need you. I need you as a Lieutenant. I need you as an Officer I can count on. I need you as a pilot. As to the other…" He picked up his glasses, putting them back on carefully, buying perhaps two seconds. "Requests denied. Dismissed."

That brought her eyes back to him. "Sir, I -."

He fixed her eyes over the top of his glasses. "Dismissed."

She came to even sharper attention, left faced, and marched out. He looked after her, knowing nothing had been resolved.

He reached for the phone at his right. "C and C. Send in Captain Adama. And then get me the President."

-

Lee Adama was in the Ward Room, so it took about ten minutes for him to be located and to answer the summons. He arrived just as his father was finishing his aborted conversation with the President. "You sent for me, sir?"

"Yes, Lee. Two things. First, it seems clear now that we underestimated the effect that releasing the knowledge that the Cylons can imitate humans would have on the fleet. Certainly I underestimated it." He told the younger man about Lt. Valerii's self-doubts. "This ship has a Doctor, but we're going to need more, someone to take care of the mind as well as the body. Have Starbuck go through the rosters of all the ships; it'll give her something to do while she's laid up. Have her start with Psychiatrists, Psychologists; hell, find us a good Social Worker if she can, but get someone in here."

"Yes, sir. And the other?"

He sighed heavily, taking off his glasses and dropping them onto the desk top. "The other's a lot harder. Sit down, son." While the younger man composed his body, the older tried to compose his thoughts. "We've … debated several times about the law, and how we view our duties, but in the end it comes down now to this: The Regulations we follow, and the laws that comprise the Articles of Colonization, apply to the government of twelve sovereign planets, not to a fleet of ships or to the inevitable one-world system we will have – assuming we survive that long.

"I need the President's liaison, with her participation and the Gods know how many others, to evaluate both the Code and the Articles, and to bring them up to our time."

"Yes, sir." Lee thought this was both wise and well overdue, but knowing his father he had to wonder. "If I may ask, sir, what led to this decision at this time?"

"The need to procreate, Captain. Dismissed."

Lee Adama doubted, quite frankly, that he would be _able_ to stand up.


End file.
